


Whose gates are guarded by dragons

by SquaresAreNotCircles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Charlie Weasley, Bisexual Percy Weasley, Canonical Character Death, Drinking & Talking, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquaresAreNotCircles/pseuds/SquaresAreNotCircles
Summary: Sitting in the grass under a sky full of stars, Percy and Charlie have a conversation about firewhiskey, dragons and girls.





	Whose gates are guarded by dragons

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I originally wrote in very early 2015 in Dutch. I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the past few days, so this afternoon I decided to put in an hour’s work and translate it, because I still like it a lot (and there can never be enough ace!Charlie content!).
> 
> The title is part of a quote from _The Count of Monte Cristo_ by Alexandre Dumas: “Happiness is like those palaces in fairy tales whose gates are guarded by dragons: we must fight in order to conquer it.”

As a teen, Percy had been rock solid in his conviction never to stoop so low as to get sloshed at a family gathering. Then the war came along, bringing with it the separation from his family, the shining moment everything seemed to be on the verge of turning out okay and Fred’s death, and somewhere in the middle of all those events he’d apparently kicked his own principles to the curb. The only thing he was absolutely certain about, was that he now found himself lying flat on his back in the grass in his parents’ garden, somewhat past tipsy and surrounded by the dark of night.

It wasn’t his fault, really. Charlie deserved to shoulder at least half the blame for this situation, because he had been the one to suggest stargazing, and it was him who had magicked up a bottle of Ogden’s Old after their parents had bid all of them goodnight. The fact that Percy was the only one out of the six remaining Weasley kids and their partners who had said yes to the proposition probably spoke volumes about him and his mental state, but for convenience’s sake he decided to ignore that.

Against his own better judgement, Percy raised his head just enough to take another swig from the steadily lightening bottle. He pulled a face. “I hate this swill.”

“Gimme that,” Charlie said. He pulled the bottle from Percy’s hand. The only reason none of the contents spilled on either of their clothes despite the rather lopsided way he was holding the thing, was that they’d been keeping busy with it for a while now. Charlie hugged the firewhiskey to his chest protectively. “This is my favourite alcohol. It reminds me of dragons.”

Percy folded his hands over his rib cage, reminiscent of the way Fred had been posed the last time he’d ever seen him. He pushed that thought aside with the appropriate measure of vehemence. “You and your dragons,” he grouched. Grouching was something he had enough experience with to make it feel natural even when in a tight spot. 

“Dragons,” Charlie sighed. “Did I tell you Baby laid her first nest? Baby has eggs. My children grow up so fast.”

“No, I did not know that,” Percy replied honestly. He had no clue who Baby was, but he decided not to ask. “I don’t understand why people call me the nerd in the family.”

“You’re the smartest out of all of us, Percy.” Charlie paused for another swallow of whiskey. Percy idly wondered if he should be trying to stop him, but that would require moving. That was too much to ask of him.

“Aren’t nerds supposed to have a passion for something? I’m not passionate about things.” Charlie snorted, but Percy bravely carried on. “You are.”

Charlie threw his arms straight out in front of him into the air. Somehow, he’d had the presence of mind to plant the bottle in the grass before he did it. “Dragons!” he cheered, like they hadn’t been talking about that very subject just thirty seconds before. “Dragons are wicked, Percy. They’re huge and cuddly.”

It was Percy’s turn to make a sceptical sound at his brother’s words. “Cuddly?”

“Those beady little eyes, Percy! And how they look when they sleep, all curled up, like a ginormous cat.”

“A fire-breathing, scaly cat with claws and wings.”

“Exactly. Who could look at that without feeling their heart melt? Not me.”

Charlie had closed his eyes with a blissful smile on his face. Percy shook his head, but the stars were the only ones who saw him do it. They twinkled at him, unreachable and deathly quiet. Everything reminded him of Fred today. “Not quite what I meant, but oh well.”

“Dragons are awesome. I love dragons.”

“That’s evident. I feel sorry for the girls in your life.”

“I take good care of Baby,” Charlie objected.

“Human girls.”

“Oh. There aren’t any.”

Percy turned his head to study Charlie’s face in profile. If this meant what he thought it might mean, it was news to him. He’d always assumed he was the sole holder of the title of not fully straight Weasley. “So, men?”

Charlie laughed. “Nah.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing. I don’t want a relationship. I’m asexual.” The words hung between them and the stars for a moment. When Percy spoke up again, he barely realized he’d switched to a whisper.

“Isn’t that lonely?”

Charlie huffed. “It’s a little frustrating, because the entire world acts like sex and romantic love are the ultimate key to happiness, but it’s not lonely. I have my friends and family and dragons. I have dragons, Percy! I’m already happy.”

“Oh,” Percy said. Charlie was still plastered, but for the first time in ages Percy really felt like a younger brother. “Then it’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Charlie agreed. He raised one hand towards the dark sky again, but this time to point at something. “See those stars up there? They look like a dragon.”

Percy was reminded of very different things when he looked up at the night sky. If there truly was an afterlife where the dead kept a watchful eye over the escapades of the living, he was sure that at some point he’d get a deserved ribbing about this night, where he’d ended up drunk in the grass. “That’s a bear, Charlie. Ursa Minor.”

“Pff,” was Charlie’s exceptionally intelligent answer, like he was trying to breathe fire.

Percy laughed quietly. When they fled for the warmth of the house not much later, he paused in the threshold to look up one last time. He murmured a goodnight to the stars, who observed him motionlessly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you had any kind of feeling about this, consider leaving a comment, because I'm infinitely curious to hear what people think of it. ❤
> 
> I'm on Tumblr as [itwoodbeprefect](https://itwoodbeprefect.tumblr.com) (which happens to be a Percy/Oliver pun, yes), if you want to come say hi!


End file.
